Beware the patient woman
by DreamWeaver2121
Summary: "No, my sweet," she murmured. "You managed to trap me, yes, and I've spent fifty years surrounded by hellfire and damned souls; but you did not honestly think it would hold me forever, did you? That I'd let your horrendous treatment of me go unpunished? That I would not get my revenge?"


**so I recently discovered Tomione and I have been obsessed. I love it and I've found so many great Fanfictions about them that I just had to try my hand at one myself.**

** Obviously this is very AU, wherein Hermione and Tom knew each other in the 40's and had a relationship that grew to more. Hermione, being her usual brilliant self, started questioning Tom's decisions and instead of listening to his wife, he trapped her in hell because he could not kill her or cause her harm. After which he erased all memory of her and tried to forget her existence which ultimately fed into his mania as he descended into darker magic on his journey for power.**

** Anyway, let me know what you think!**

** enjoy!**

** \--**

Sometimes he thinks he can sense her, like a ghost from his past; the brush of her magic against his is nothing more than a whisper of what it used to be. Before he'd caged her. Before he'd tried to snuff her out. It was a bitter taste on his tongue, that faded taste of her magic, and it only proved to send him into a rage.

It wasn't until he'd seen her, at Malfoy Manor, playing the part of an innocent school girl that he truly grasped the reality that she was back. Somehow, she'd found her way from out of the depths, crawled her way through the mud and the dirt and burst through the crust of the earth to stand before him; a mockery of what he'd become. Of what she warned him he would become.

When she met his eyes, those bright pools of molten whiskey that held so much knowledge, and so much venom, he couldn't think before he was in front of her. Cutting off what everyone was saying, headless of their audience as he gripped her throat. "You're supposed to be trapped in the pits, I made sure of it! How are you here?" Silence pervaded the room, watching, wondering if he'd gone mad; but he knew. He knew that magic, knew the force of it when it wasn't contained like it was now to blend in. He knew this woman who was pretending to be a teenage girl, and now it seemed everyone would too as she met his red eyes fearlessly. A serene smile on her face.

"No, my sweet," she murmured. "You managed to trap me, yes, and I've spent fifty years surrounded by hellfire and damned souls, but you did not honestly think it would hold me forever, did you? That I'd let your horrendous treatment of me go unpunished? That I would not get my revenge?" That same disarming smile on her face, even as his hand squeezed tighter around her throat.

"You cannot hurt me," he hissed. "Our marriage vows won't allow it."

She laughed then, that melodious sound that used to sooth his manic thoughts now sent a cold chill down his spine. "That is where you're wrong, love. Turns out that banishing me to the pits of hell rendered me 'deceased' according to the magic binding of our marriage vows. So, in your effort to kill me without killing me, you erased the only thing saving you from my wrath. I believe that is what they call 'irony'."

The breath hissed out of his lungs as he dropped her, hand raising his wand to her chest as she finally showed her true colors, that tantalizing little taste of magic he could feel before turning into an inferno of magical power as she let her guards drop. The walls shook and the air became oppressive as her magic rose in power to match his. The timid schoolgirl demeanor dropping as the confident woman who had ruled by his side half a century ago came forward. Hair a crackling halo of raw power, "you and I are long overdue for a chat, my dear."

He cast a quick killing curse only to watch it be redirected at one of his nameless minions. Still taking measured steps towards him a dome of magic erected around them made of broken glass and debris from the crumbling building, trapping them within and keeping everyone else out, "that's better, wouldn't want any wayward sycophants to try and come between our little lovers spat." She simpered.

Voldemort sneered as he continued to throw hexes at his wayward wife, "you can't kill me, I'll come back! I'll always come back!" His rage clouding what little mental processes still remained.

"I'm aware, darling." She smiled. "I'm planning on it actually, but you'll be coming back on my terms." Lazily deflecting everything he threw at her, she continued to smile that serene smile, perfect rose lips pulled into a devastating caricature of innocence. "You see, Tom, when you sent me to hell -- which was not nice by the way-- you seemed to have forgotten that part of your soul belongs to me. Since you didn't break the marriage contract before banishing me, that little fragment hitched a ride to Hades. And he and I have had a lot of fun coming up with ways to destroy you."

"You can't destroy me! I am Lord Voldemort, I am a God amongst wizards! The world trembles at my feet!" He was becoming manic now, hasty and sloppy with his spell casting. The fear threatening to choke him. This was the only woman who could ever best him, and her rage was famous for being boundless and brutal in its entirety.

"You're a cheap imitation of the man you used to be, and you disgrace the one you could have been when you decided not to listen to me!" She screamed, "I told you not to fuck around with Horcruxes Tom Riddle, and here you go and tear your soul not once, but seven times! You're so far gone into the abyss that you don't even realize how destabilized you've become! The world isn't afraid of a God they're afraid of a lunatic."

Voldemort hissed, his snake like features contorting with rage until he dropped his wand in favor of strangling the wretched woman where she stood, "you dare mock me! You insolent, filthy little girl, you were nothing before I found you! I made you, and I can unmake you!"

He never got far enough to hurt her though, before a piercing pain shot through his chest. A cursed dagger puncturing his heart as the raging winds died around them, Hermione having decided that their fight was over.

Blood filled his lungs as he staggered into her, putrid breath staining her neck as he whispered in broken stutters, "I'll….be….back."

She looked at him, those whiskey eyes that he so adored when he still had a resemblance to anything human were filled with pity, "No, you won't. I found all your horcruxes, Tom. I killed them all. Lord Voldemort is dead."

His breath seized in his chest as his body went limp, there was a beat of silence before chaos ensued as Voldemort's followers became enraged at his death. Hermione quelled them with a look, that same magical inferno rising again as she addressed the audience that she'd ignored through the whole ordeal. Pushed into the walls with an unseen force, she met the eyes of these people she'd interacted with for the last few years. Lucius Malfoy with his trademark sneer nowhere in sight, his son looking caught between celebration and revulsion, Bellatrix thrashing about and screaming in rage before Hermione stole her voice. Harry and Ron, so confused, laying dirty and beaten on the marble floor.

It was to them she addressed, "I'm sorry. I hope you realize that-- while it initially started as an advantageous move-- our friendship really did mean something to me. I tried to be a good friend, and I hope you can forgive me."

She turned back to Voldemort's corps, and with his blood, started drawing runes on the floor until she had erected a perfect circle. In the center of which a mirror like wall began to form, the blood runes starting to glow as Hermione continued to chant. A body became visible, that of a young man, looking like a fallen Angel and smiling like the devil himself owed him a favor. His eyes never left Hermione as she finished the chant.

Pulling the knife from Voldemort's body, watching as it turned to ash as she did so, she brought the dagger down and pierced the glass, shattering it and releasing the man inside.

"Hello my angel," he whispered. Hands raking through her tangled hair before he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, laying claim to his witch for the first time in fifty years.

"Wonderful work as always, my darling." That same charming smile on his lips even as the horror registered on the faces of their captive audience. He turned to them and waved like he was a benevolent king, "unfortunately I cannot start my reign with a woman so proficient at murdering me at my side, you understand, right?" He turned back, the dagger he pilfered from her hand aimed at her heart as he drove it home.

Only to be stopped as something wrapped around his lungs and dropped him to his knees in agony. "Oh Tom," she said with sardonic glee. "You didn't actually think I'd bring you back without a measure of safety did you? After all you did lock me in hell with the intent of leaving me there for all eternity."

He glowered up at her, unable to rise as the pain continued to tear him up from the inside. "What did you do?" He wheezed.

"Simple modification of our marriage vows, only this time I didn't promise not to hurt you back." She carded her fingers through his thick hair in a mockery of adoration. "You are bound to me, Tom Riddle, you hurt me you die. If I die, then you die. You do anything I don't like, I send you back to hell. Permanently. Are we understood?"

"Yes." He hissed. "Until I find a way around it." She smiled at the challenge.

"Oh," she tisked, "cheer up, love. No need to be a sore loser. We do, after all, have a world to bring to its knees."


End file.
